


Mouth-to-Mouth Blood Transition

by Zigrat



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bloodlust, Character Turned Into Vampire, Crack, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigrat/pseuds/Zigrat
Summary: One should always, always read the travel brochures, especially when traveling to destinations with a high vampire population.





	Mouth-to-Mouth Blood Transition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt asking for Rammstein as vampires but still as a band. The only changes are vampirism and possible related side-effects. Dear vampire anon, I hope this fits your prompt somewhat!
> 
> This fic… sucks. Yes, it’s exactly that bad. I’m not sure if the prompter wanted sexy vampires. I’m not sure they are sexy vampires. I wasn't even sure how to rate this. Perhaps one day I’ll write a serious gothic vampire AU, but it is not this day.

“We have a problem,” Richard announced. His hands were shaking, though he was smoking his dozenth cigarette of the hour.

“There is no problem. And I’m not going to talk about it,” Flake said in a dead voice. He was staring at a newspaper in a language none of them understood.

“This problem which doesn’t exist,” Richard said and cursed as he fumbled with the lighter, singeing his fingers. “Fuck!” That hurt more than it should have. The skin of his fingertips looked grayish.

“Yes. That is exactly what I mean.”

Till sighed and lifted his sunglasses to take a look at his bandmates. “I take it this means we all caught it?”

They stared at each other in various states of guilt and embarrassment in the close confines of the tour bus. It wasn’t like vampires were all that common. One or two might turn up at the Berlin underground scene for a brief fling with fame, but all six of them? It was a huge cosmic joke.

“There’s only one thing I’m going to say. The pyros are still not negotiable.” Till let his sunglasses drop and slouched back on the couch.

They all considered themselves to hail from the east, but there was east and then there was the East of gothic romances, with crumbling castles and dark woods and fucking _vampires_ , afterparties in crowded clubs and literally bloody morning afters. As they had found out.

“How were we supposed to know vampirism was so easy to catch?” Paul said, fidgeting on his seat. His fingers picked at a large, fang-shaped scab on his shoulder until Schneider swatted his hand away.

“It’s stated on every travel brochure,” Olli pointed out. “Right after where it says to drink tap water at your own risk. Not that anyone apparently read any of them.”

“So how did they get you, then?” Schneider asked, annoyance written all over his features.

Olli’s face closed up. “It doesn’t matter.”

“There was a hot chick,” Paul said helpfully. “And her friend. And their boyfriend.”

“I don’t want you to talk about it, either.”

The one time he decided to really let loose… Olli banged his head against the foggy glass of the window. It had been quite a wake-up call to find himself covered in blood, his and others’, and to realize he could actually tell the scents apart. Worse, the strangely appealing smell didn’t disappear with showering. On the contrary, it kept hitting him in waves whenever a human walked past. Even the blood flowing through his own veins was an omnipresent distraction.

He was only convinced he hadn’t turned serial-killer overnight when he saw the state his bandmates were in. Oh, they were turned all right, but in quite a different fashion. One after another they slinked back to the tour bus, pale, dark-eyed and covered in bite marks, glaring at the sun which dared to show itself between clouds.

His morose thoughts were broken by Paul’s annoyingly normal chatter.

“Why can’t we be sexy vampires?”

“Vampirism is not required to make one sexy,” Flake said without looking up from the newspaper. “And I refuse to believe any of this is real without a proper medical check-up.”

“But couldn’t it have made me at least a little bit taller?”

“Come on, you’re just fine,” Schneider said and elbowed Paul. “Only somewhat paler than usual.”

“It sucks we are not in Renaissance Italy,” Richard said and left that thought hanging like it explained everything.

“Richard, what are you reading?” Schneider craned his neck to get a look.

“A novel I picked up before this clusterfuck. Something by Anne Rice. Vampires seemed to have way more fun back then. There’s brothels and courtesans and angelically beautiful boys who can’t resist vampiric charms.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that may not be actual history.”

“I know.” Richard cursed as he fumbled with the pages. “But I have to distract myself somehow! Don’t any of you feel it? I’m going crazy here, this is worse than when I tried to quit smoking!”

That was… bad. Richard looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. Figuratively speaking. The rest of them started to surreptitiously look for escape routes. Unfortunately, there were none.

“You’re craving blood?” Till asked, still looking out the window.

“And you’re not? The air conditioning is awful and we’re all crammed up here and the air’s thick with the smell of it...”

It was true, beads of sweat were gathering on Richard’s brow. He let the lighter and the book drop.

“Sure. But it’s not so bad. You won’t die of it.”

“Well mister self-denial, you may be into deprivation, but I can’t fucking take this anymore!”

“Richard has a point,” Olli said. He sounded calm, but his eyes were dark and gleaming in the falling evening. “How are we going to deal with this for the rest of the tour? I’m assuming we aren’t going to call it off.”

“It’s only a craving, right?” Paul said slowly. He was eyeing Schneider speculatively. “So circulating a little bit of blood wouldn’t be a problem?”

“Are you suggesting some sort of a vampiric circle-jerk?” Schneider asked.

“Well, if you want to think about it that way...”

“I don’t,” Flake said stonily. “But I don’t see how else we’re going to solve this. And I refuse to let something this ridiculous ruin a completely successful tour.”

“You think so?” Till asked, finally turning to look at them.

“Do we want this to become common knowledge? Look for snacks at gas stations? Didn’t think so.”

Flake did have a point. Tales of vampires sucking humans dry had turned out to be just that - folk tales or fucked up killers trying to blame it all on uncontrollable urges. Vampires didn’t _need_ blood any more than smokers their nicotine; it was only another addition to a long list of addictive substances. Though attitudes towards vampires had grown considerably more tolerant in recent years, they were by no means safe from prejudices. Testing their luck in the middle of nowhere might not be the brightest of ideas.

“Well, in that case...” Till took off his sunglasses. His eyes were brighter than usual, an inhuman light burning from within. He’d looked so unaffected until now, only withdrawn... “Richard, come here.”

“You’re going to do it _here_?”

Flake’s indignant question fell to deaf ears. Richard practically threw himself at Till. He was too far gone to mind an audience, and anyway he didn’t have much scruples about things like that. Flake raised his newspaper in front of him.

“How do you want...” The words came out sluggishly, Richard was at the end of his patience. His fingers were clawing at Till’s shirt.

Without a word, Till pulled his collar to the side. Richard buried his face in Till’s neck with a desperate sound. The iron smell of blood wafted in the air as his newly broken-in fangs pierced skin. Till hissed, but his hands came to rest at Richard’s waist to steady him. He stared up at the ceiling, pain and rapture painted over his features.

It affected them all, deny it as they might. The air was almost crackling with tension.

They could see the change in Richard. The strain in his shoulders dissipated, and he relaxed in Till’s hold. The frantic, violent sucking turned gradually into gentler, teasing bites as the craving eased. Till groaned, his eyes half-closed.

Richard turned to look over his shoulder at the others whose eyes were glued on him. His mouth was smeared with red, and a little bit of blood was running down from the corner of his mouth. He licked at it unselfconsciously, making four people in the room very conscious of a desperation which had caught up with them. Richard’s smile was like sin itself.

“Anybody else want a taste?”

He held out his arm. It all deteriorated from there.

Richard had a hard time keeping count of what was happening. Red lust was filling his mind, so much better than a nicotine rush. Everyone looked beautiful, delectable, filled with sweet blood. Till had finally extricated Richard from his neck and made Richard turn around in his lap, a proprietary arm keeping him from leaving.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Till whispered in Richard’s ear. He nuzzled at Richard’s neck like he had all the time in the world.

“I figured, why not make the most of it,” Richard managed to say in a strangled voice. He tried to lean closer to Till, to cover that crucial bit of distance.

“Look at them,” Till said, meaning Schneider and Paul, who were trading bloody kisses on the other couch, quite unaware of anything else. “Think they’ll thank you in the morning?”

“Yes,” Richard gasped as Till’s breath tickled his skin. “Come on, don’t be such a fucking tease!”

“At least you appreciate reciprocity,” Till said. It started amused, but his voice took on something of a feral quality. “All right. You asked for it.”

Till bit down hard on Richard’s shoulder where a purple mark from the previous night still throbbed.

“Fuck,” Richard hissed. “You brute.” He made no move to get away. Then he let out a moan as another set of fangs got to work on him.

Olli had bit into Richard’s arm and was making helpless little noises, alternatively biting down and soothing the skin with his tongue as though in apology. Richard, who was trapped between the two of them and happy to be where he was, tried to reassure him by stroking his neck with his fingers. But soon he was so far gone in his bloodlust-filled high that he could do nothing but accept what they gave, gentle and rough, apologetic and forceful. He couldn’t decide which he liked more. He’d never felt taken in such a way, and his thoughts flitted back to the previous night, counting bodies and sets of teeth, wondering if he could persuade the others to…

Richard bit his lip at the thought, unmindful of his sharp fangs. Blood spilled down his chin, but someone was quick to catch it and dab at the wounds with their tongue. He blinked – that was not Olli – and saw that Flake had approached them silently. He seemed to assess the taste of Richard’s blood, frowning.

“Flake,” Till said quietly, letting go of Richard for a moment. “You know you want to.”

“You don’t know any such thing,” Flake said, but it came out more desperate than cutting. He was practically shaking, yet he refused to give in. Richard had to give him some credit for that.

“Really.” Till sounded affectionate. He lifted his own wrist to his mouth and bit at it until blood flowed and gathered on his palm. He held out his hand to Flake. “Come here.”

There was no way to resist such a temptation. Flake clambered on the couch and held Till’s arm in a vice-like grip as he finally succumbed. He lapped at the blood and apparently decided it was more to his liking, because he sank his fangs in, all hesitation forgotten.

Till let out a satisfied sigh and returned his attention to Richard.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said, and Richard felt a pleasant thrill as Till made him tilt his head back, baring his throat. He was acutely aware of the throb of his pulse, the blood circulating and blending inside of him, reaching all the way to his rapidly beating heart. Then Till bit down and he could do nothing but moan shamelessly, wrecked by bloodlust and lust and blood, all mixed up.

When Richard reached some state of lucidity again, he was on the floor, propped up against Till’s chest. Olli was leaning against him, looking shell-shocked, and on his other side Flake had laid his head down on Till’s shoulder, long hair hiding his expression from view.

“No offense, but that was the weirdest threesome I’ve ever had,” Olli said in a faraway voice.

“Counting the hot vampire chick and her friends?” Richard asked, clearing his throat. He felt quite normal now, thoroughly satisfied and in need of a drink. His head swam a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them take so much blood from him. Maybe he should have taken more.

“You’re higher on the weirdness scale.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Richard said. “Besides, doesn’t that count as a foursome?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Flake said, brushing his hair away from his face. He grimaced as his fingers came away bloody. “I’m not a part of your ‘somes’. Besides, your blood tastes awful. Nothing but nicotine!”

“Oh really?” Richard said, narrowing his eyes. “Because your blood must be such a delicacy. You don’t hear me complaining about anyone’s beer drinking, do you?”

Till sighed against his back, and Richard felt vaguely guilty about ruining the moment. Then his eyes focused properly on the scene in front of him.

“They’re still at it, aren’t they?” Till said wonderingly.

Schneider and Paul were indeed still kissing, had been doing a lot more than kissing, and had fallen to the floor in the process. Shirts were strewn haphazardly around them. They weren’t even sharing blood anymore, though that had definitely happened at some point. The sight of them was rather gruesome, and extremely attractive for newly turned vampires.

It took some time before they realized everyone else was regarding them in rapt silence. Paul, who was currently on top, let his head drop in the crook of Schneider’s neck. Schneider was staring at the ceiling, his hands still at Paul’s hips.

“Did we just have sex?” he asked, a dreamy note in his voice.

Paul lifted his head and propped his chin on Schneider’s chest.

“I think it wasn’t sex, technically. More like mouth-to-mouth blood transition?”

“Then why is your hand down my pants?”

“Good question...”

There was a cough from the couch.

“We could weigh in on that, if you’re confused,” Till suggested.

“Ugh.” Paul realized their grimy state. “Let’s go clean up. By which I mean, I’ll go,” he added hastily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll join you,” Schneider said, and Paul beamed as he held out his hand for the drummer to pull him up.

There was a brief silence after they were gone.

“They are disgusting, aren’t they?” Richard said wistfully.

“Intolerable,” Till agreed, looking fondly down at Richard.

“I don’t know why we put up with them,” Flake said.

“Because they’re kind of sweet?” Olli offered.

That earned him exasperated stares.

“Olli, you’re too honest for your own good,” Richard sighed.

Olli shrugged. “And you’re not honest enough for yours.”

Familiar bickering eased them out of strange new territory. They would have plenty of time to explore it later. A lifetime, to be exact.

It turned out that like most things in life, vampirism had its upsides and downsides. Not needing much stage makeup to get the pale, glittery-eyed look was good; being easily flammable was bad. Despite that little drawback, they refused to pull any punches with the pyros. Any vampires in the crowd cheered them as the most badass performers on earth. 

And when it came to interviews, questions about their possible vampiric tendencies were right up there with BDSM, Nazis, communism and necrophilia. Whatever they said, no one was the least bit surprised. Not even when they started referring to their newly found bond as a marriage by blood.

In short, nothing had really changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ❤ As always, comments are dearly loved!


End file.
